


when you travel with a jaguar

by gemmywrites



Series: big cat jaskier [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cat Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, M/M, big cat jaskier, cat jaskier antics, genuinely not sure what to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemmywrites/pseuds/gemmywrites
Summary: the positives and negatives of your travel companion being able to turn into a big cat
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: big cat jaskier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829149
Comments: 20
Kudos: 479





	when you travel with a jaguar

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my tumblr @gemmywrites ! 
> 
> this is my first work for this ship, but i've been devouring fanfiction of these two for months now

The first time Jaskier turned into a cat, Geralt was shocked– at the very least. There was a multitude of reasons for him to feel this way. Geralt was a Witcher. He should have known, should have been able to tell that Jaskier was actually a– well, whatever he was. The changing was also extremely abrupt. There was no phasing in and out of forms. One moment Jaskier the bard was there, and within the blink of an eye, a jaguar stood in his place.

That part was the least shocking bit of it all. That Jaskier wasn’t just a cat, he was a _big cat_. A predator. A beast that brutally tore out the throat of the man that had been accosting them, while Geralt stood frozen like an idiotic brick wall. Now, it was sitting, staring up at Geralt with wide eyes and an inquisitive chirp. The innocent expression didn’t match the way it’s– _Jaskier’s_ –tail twitched back and forth irritatedly, beating against the ground repeatedly.

Geralt had many questions. _Why didn’t his medallion hum? Wasn’t this magic? How long had Jaskier been like this? Was he cursed?_

Instead, all that came out was an exasperated, “fuck”. 

It took another five seconds for him to regain his awareness (and suggest that they should probably get out of this town).

Night had already fallen so they didn’t travel far, only putting a safe amount of distance between them and the town they were planning to stay in, before making camp in the woods. Geralt had led Roach on foot, who was very displeased about being torn away from her stall, and didn’t seem to be afraid of Jaskier in the slightest. The jaguar had prowled along next to him the whole time, looking through the trees and into the darkness. Geralt realized that in this form, Jaskier’s night vision was probably up to par with his own.

Once Geralt had decided on a spot to settle down in for the night, Jaskier bolted away before the Witcher could utter a word to stop him. Creating a fire was left to him, since Jaskier clearly wouldn’t be able to do it. A faint scampering of footsteps could be heard while he gathered kindling, and by the time he cast Igni, Jaskier was trotting towards him with two rabbits clamped in his jaw.

It was a wary sight, despite Geralt knowing that it wasn’t a wild animal. Well, it was, in a way. But it wasn’t. It was Jaskier, who unhinged his jaw and dropped the rabbits at Geralt’s feet. The Witcher sat beside the fire and began to skin the two animals, and the next time he glanced over at Jaskier, he’s human again. Human with this expression that screamed _nervous_ and _concerned_. Geralt didn’t like it.

“You’re not a therianthope, a werecat,” For once, Geralt spoke first. “So what are you?”

“Ah, a cursed bard?” Jaskier supplied, shoulders raising to his ears, knees drawn up to his chest. _Cursed_ , so Geralt was right. “Although, I don’t really think it’s a bad curse.”

His additional comment was confusing. What kind of curse wasn’t bad?

“I have full control over when I shift.” Jaskier explained. “And I was going to tell you! Well– eventually. I mean, I was going to do so with much more style! And in a much less violent manner. But, here we are. That moronic man just made me so angry, it slipped out!”

“So, you don’t have full control?” Geralt narrowed his eyes. A slip of the tongue was common for Jaskier. Accidentally changing into a jaguar and mauling a man to death over some harsh words was not.

Jaskier glared back, but his body relaxed a bit from the familiar pattern of their bickering.

“I do. I just hadn’t shifted in awhile because I’ve been traveling with you for so long. Normally when I get that mad, I stab, not bite.”

Geralt hummed. Jaskier did tend to stab people.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Jaskier sighed, staring at the rabbit cooking over the fire. “At least now I can shift more often.”

And he did. Very often. Sometimes Geralt wondered if he preferred being a cat, and that the only thing holding him back was the ability to sing as a human. It was certainly a welcomed (but not necessary) improvement on their companionship.

Jaskier often took over the role of hunting for their dinner, dragging full-sized deer back to camp and dropping it at Geralt’s feet with a chirp. He was also quite proficient in fishing, and would use his tail to lure fish nearer to the surface. In cat form, Geralt didn’t have to worry about Jaskier’s ability to keep up with Roach while traveling, and it was nice to have another set of sharp eyes and ears. At first, Geralt assumed Jaskier would be the same reckless bard, only in cat form. But no, Jaskier was every bit attuned to his enhanced senses, and more than capable of using his speed and strength. It made sense, if the Witcher thought about it. The bard put on a fun and harmless facade, but Geralt’s seen enough tavern brawls, and the accompanying malice in Jaskier’s features, to know that he was a force to be reckoned with if need be.

But, as much as the jaguar clearly had a human conscience inside of him, there were certain cat traits that Geralt had to… _deal_ with.

Jaskier was an affectionate human, and the trait only amplified when he was a cat.

When he first started shifting around Geralt, he would stretch out right next to the Witcher at night, the warmth radiating off of his feline form a comfort that Geralt wouldn’t admit to. After a few days, Jaskier started settling closer so that his back was a constant pressure against Geralt’s arm in slumber, even though Geralt didn’t always fall asleep. He only realized that Jaskier was holding back after he worked up the courage to pet him.

The most common form of affection (although Geralt wouldn’t admit that it was, in fact, _affection_ ) was the head butting. One time he even did it to Roach. Geralt, with his limited knowledge about wild cats, knew that it was instinctually a form of scent marking. With how often they travelled to new locations, Jaskier was practically relentless. If they stopped on the path, Geralt would earn a headbutt to the hip. If they were sitting around a campfire, Jaskier would press his forehead into Geralt’s shoulder, sometimes as a form of thanks and other times for seemingly no reason at all. The jaguar would pace endlessly beside Roach while Geralt battled a monster, and when the Witcher returned, he’d be rewarded with heavy paws pinning his shoulders to the ground, a headbutt to the forehead, and a soft chuff.

One time, Jaskier had tried to lick him, to _groom_ him. Geralt put a stop to that. A house-cat’s tongue had nothing on a jaguars, the roughness of which could make skin break and bleed with enough persistence.

And then, there was the _stalking_.

He would never intentionally hurt Geralt, but having a wild animal creeping behind him certainly put his Witcher senses on edge. Geralt could be sitting, cleaning his swords, when suddenly Jaskier would rise to his feet, seemingly in slow motion. He’d keep his head low and prowl towards the Witcher, silent. The white haired man would set his weapons aside, turn his head to look at Jaskier, and Jaskier would pounce. He’d tackle Geralt with 200 pounds of force, wrestling with him in the grass and growling softly. Geralt would put up a fight, of course, and he could win if he wanted to. Most of the time, he let Jaskier get the kill, and if the bard was feeling petty, he’d lay directly on top of his prey, a deadweight atop the Witcher. It happened every time Jaskier wanted to play. Geralt would be subjected to a few minutes of slow motion stalking, Jaskier would reel back on his hind legs (and sometimes wiggle his back end), and then Geralt would get jumped.

Jaguars also seemed to have an affinity for the water. Jaskier would run and jump and splash, and tackle Geralt _into_ the water if he felt extra mischievous. Geralt learned that jaguars were very good swimmers.

The worst was probably the _biting_.

Sometimes Jaskier forgot that his feline teeth were very sharp. He’d nip at Geralt’s jaw while they laid (cuddled) together, and sometimes a fang would catch in just the right way and draw blood. He’d try to amend it with his sandpaper tongue, which obviously wasn’t that helpful. Other times they’d be playing, and he’d clamp his jaw around Geralt’s forearm, who, if he was lucky, would be wearing armor. More often than not, he’d release the other man’s arm immediately, from either not truly intending to bite hard enough to break through skin, or from being a little jarred at the odd taste and texture of leather in his mouth. But sometimes Jaskier’s cat instincts would go into overdrive, and once his jaw closed around Geralt’s arm, he wouldn’t let go. The Witcher had learned to keep his arm still, as moving it about only caused Jaskier to hold on tighter. Eventually, Jaskier would let go, but if Geralt got the sense that he _might not_ , if the jaguars canines started sinking into his skin, and if the rumbling in the feline’s chest started echoing deep within Geralts, the Witcher would hiss out a warning, _“Jaskier”_. It would sober the cat up, who’d unlock his jaw and probably apologize with a headbutt.

But these traits weren’t all so bad. Geralt was getting worse and worse at denying any enjoyment from Jaskier’s affections. His denials couldn’t mean much when he went out of his way to give Jaskier’s head a soft pat. He enjoyed when the jaguar wanted to play, although Geralt couldn’t use his full strength on him, it was still a nice energy outlet. Jaskier kept a nice balance between being a bard and being a cat, since it wouldn’t exactly be socially acceptable for Geralt to ask for a room at an inn for him and his wild animal. And of course, Jaskier couldn’t go more than half a day without singing a tune or plucking a few chords. But when it was just the two of them at night, when the sky was dark and the only nearby sound was the crackling of their campfire, Geralt would happily overlook the blood the came with the biting, and the stalking, to have Jaskier’s soft fur and warmth pressed against his side every night.


End file.
